


Chrysalis

by Serenity_Ribbon



Category: The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon
Genre: Friendship, Gen, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28119525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenity_Ribbon/pseuds/Serenity_Ribbon
Summary: In the year 997, friendships are forged and rekindled.
Relationships: Arteloth Beck & Eadaz du Zāla uq-Nāra, Arteloth Beck & Sabran Berethnet, Susa & Tané
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	1. Tané

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haywire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haywire/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, Haywire!

Tané could hear the strange pitter-patter of the snow over her head. It sounded very different to the constant rains that often coated Seikii in a constant dampness for weeks, and was far more dangerous. At her side Ishari shifted again. They had pushed together their beds and made a nest out of their blankets, in a vain attempt to keep warm.

“I feel as if it’s going to come in through the walls.” Ishari said, shivering under the blankets that had been handed out when it had become clear that it was not going to be a few brief days of light snow and instead a blizzard was brewing. That had been nearly a week ago now.

“Go back to sleep,” Tané whispered. “It may be better by the morning.”

It wasn’t.

A river bridge had come down by the sheer force of the weight on top of it, and the apprentices of the South House worked with the villagers and tradespeople through the snow to assess the damage. Tané wondered how those who had been chosen last year were coping with the weather over the ocean, if they even had snow on the seas. Surely it would make things both harder and easier, level the field slightly. Several of those who were chosen last year had been Tané’s mentors and friends and it had been hard, first to not disturb them in their seclusion and then to see them off to the Sea Temple, a place she would not stand herself for what seemed like endless years.

One of their learned teachers split away from a gathering of teachers and tradespeople and moved towards Tané and Ishari where they had taken shelter under an outcropping. “Tané, we are nearly out of firewood and I need someone to come with me to carry it. Are you done with your work here?” 

Said in that tone, it was more of a command than anything. Tané bid Ishari goodbye and ventured into the cold white world that surrounded them.

Mitsu was not one of her usual teachers, typically handling the very youngest and teaching them in the basics of reading, writing and reasoning. The teacher that had taught her those things had died in her sleep the summer previous, after many years service. Tané remembered her as a stern woman, who had nevertheless seen teaching as her true vocation and she wasn’t sure what to make of her replacement, fresh off Feather Island. He lead Tané through the snow swept streets, asking here and there about her learning and telling her about things he could see and hear and what they meant. Tané held the pommel of her sword at her side. It felt as if the snow had blanketed her senses, too.

In the end, it was a near miracle she even heard the screams. Maybe it was the same sort of blessing that had brought her to the Houses of Learning, except on the power of a shout, not the wings of a butterfly.

Tané looked to her learned teacher, still arguing with the woodseller, and decided to make her own move. The sounds of laughter were louder the closer she moved to the alleyway, and she peeked around it to see a crowd of boys, most a little older than her, surrounding, laughing and jeering at a little shape on the floor. At first she thought they’d taunted a small animal as their sport, but as the shape moved, it became obvious that their prey was a small girl of about Tané’s own age, cowering from the blows. Tané drew her sword and ran into the fray, the urchins flinching away from her attack. One of them recovered quicker than the others and, turning, drew his blade in an arch across her cheek. Tané hissed through her teeth at the biting pain and drove her wooden sword into his abdomen, winding him. They faced off, turning round and round each other, the girl on the floor and the boys, now cowering away from both of them, watching intently. The boy with the knife finally said, “It’s not worth it.” and gestured to the others, and they ran into the deserted streets, the sound of their jeers and taunts floating away.

Tané knelt next to the girl and held out a hand to her. “What’s your name? Where do you live?”

The girl had pushed herself into a sitting position and looked at her with not a little fear, “Susa. And… nowhere, everywhere.” she gestured to a small pallet tucked into the side of a building that might’ve been her bed. 

Tané stood, wiping away the blood rapidly spilling from her cheek as she did. “There’s some hot coals by the market and if my teacher isn’t done shouting at the merchant yet for overcharging, we should be able to heat our hands by it.”

Susa followed her back out into the marketplace, following warily a few steps behind. She walked hunched-over, in that way that people who were often hungry did.

A few minutes standing at the hot coals warmed their faces and hands. Tané's feet were still utterly freezing, but it would do. A few stragglers eyed her wound and Susa's tattered clothes. Susa lowered her head, but Tané met their eyes, until they turned away.

“I’m an orphan. I don’t even remember my parents.” Susa said quietly, like she needed to get the words out. Tané looked at her.

“So am I.” and then an utterly ridiculous thought, “We could be sisters.” 

Maybe it was the cold, or the warmth, or the bruises, but their hysterical laughter lasted until Susa darted away. Tané reached for her, suddenly scared she had frightened her off. Susa almost trotted back over with a little, dented, metal cup and knelt down to fill it with snow. She held it over the coals, watching it with a look of intense concentration. When it was melted, she poured it carefully over Tané’s cheek, washing the wound.

“It’ll bleed lots.” she said, before mumbling, “Though you probably knew that already.”

Tané carefully touched the wound. It was already welling up with blood already, but the clean snowmelt would likely reduce the chance of infection. Susa would be more aware of the risks than most; on the streets an infected wound was a death sentence.

Impulsively she said, "I’ll speak to my teacher. I think you’re too old for a place in the Houses of Learning but surely there’s something better than this.” she took the cup from Susa and refilled it. When it melted, she handed it back to Susa to drink out of. She gulped down the cold water and smiled. Tané smiled helplessly back.


	2. Ead

Ead awoke to the sound of the younger maids throwing pillows at each other. Now that the chill of autumn was upon them the court was counting down the few weeks left at Ascalon Palace, and she wasn’t looking forward to feeling like the other maids of honour were even more on top of her. Apparently the quarters at Briar House were even more cramped. But still, the laughter was better than the titters.

They followed her everywhere, but were the most annoying when she was trying to sleep, or relax after a day of playing the pretty young maiden at court. To make matters worse was the fact that the Mother of the Maids agreed with her charges and would not put a stop to it, almost encouraging them in their goings on. Guarding the Queen at night, as she sometimes did was almost a relief, a reminder of her days in the Priory where her skills as a fighter were valued above anything else. Other than her duties to the Mother, and she could not help herself from worrying that every day her false prayers to Galian Berethnet and that plinth they said honoured their Damsel would worm their way further into her heart, like the wyrms burrowed into the earth, displacing her true religion.

On went her many layers of clothing, the methodical order of things giving her a little comfort. The winter-weight petticoats, in deference to the ever-increasing cold outside, the skirts, bodices, girdle and finally her brooch, proclaiming her patron, the Knight of Generosity. She ran her hand across the wheat embossed on its surface. She wished she could go about in furs as the Queen did, because then she might feel a little of the warmth she so missed, especially when she took her solitary turns around the garden. How she wished for Jondu by her side, and to be chasing wyrms through the mountains again. She had lost all that for a prophecy that was likely untrue, or had only the whisper of truth to it. The Prioress certainly seemed to believe there was some truth there and Ead loved and respected her and knew her duty. That would have to do, even in her loneliest moments.

It was her turn to be part of the farce that was the Queen’s mealtime. It wasn’t the ritual of the choosing of her food that made it the least favourite of her duties, although that was utterly ridiculous, especially as Ead was quickly discovering that Sabran chose the same thing - a simple round of goldenbread - every single mealtime. Today, the choices were largely heavy, winter meals, prepared with what could keep for the long months of the Inysh winter. The scents of the plate she was carrying and those to either side of her made her mouth water, even though they had been strange to her not months before. These things were becoming almost familiar.

The _true_ farce was when the Queen asked her Maids to gossip for her, after the meal had been served and sampled by the Chief Gentlewoman. It was plain that she hungered for information beyond the walls of her castle that she hadn’t left since she was a child, but the way the other maids attempted to simper their cousins or siblings way into higher positions was sickening. Like in all other things, Ead sat off to the side, silent.

The Queen went off for her daily walk around the Garden with Lady Arbella, their heads pressed together as if they were somehow sharing secrets, and the Maids of Honour set about tidying. After that there were lessons to prepare them for the series of dances they would be expected to perform tonight. This was one area in which Ead matched up to her peers, whirling elegantly around the floor, like in a fight. Never had she thought she would be using her skills for the pleasure of the Queen of Inys.

As the sun set, they made their way to the Banqueting Hall, where Ead enjoyed roast beef, ham and parsnips and listened to an unmarried Queen talk about fellowship and how the strength of Inys would defeat the heathens, and tried not to feel like every eye in the room was on her, the convert from the South. There had been a little noise at the second seat at the Queen's table being filled by a tall man with brown skin. Normally, in Ead's experience, Lady Roslain would sit in the chair closest to the Queen, and that seat was left empty. For a moment, she wondered if he was a potential suitor. It was, after all, the Feast of Fellowship.

After, in the Presence Chamber, came the part of things she enjoyed, the dancing, but as the other Maids made their ways over to lovers and family and friends Ead was once again left alone in the middle of the room.

The tall man, the one she’d seen with Sabran before, made his way towards her and asked her for a dance in exchange for some wine. She’d accepted for the wine at first, anything for a stronger drink to warm her belly and make her forget this place. He was a good dancer though, very good, and twisting in a pinwheel around him felt the most like home that she had in months, almost like her and Jondu moving in sync during a spar. And then he produced the wine, ‘Ascalon’s finest’, according to him, and had half dragged Ead outside, settling them both under an ancient apple tree, from which they could still hear the ongoing festivities inside.

“Has Ambassador uq-Ispad known you long, to recommend you to such a high position?” 

Of course the first question was about her background. If he was as well-connected as it seemed, it shouldn’t even be one he needed to ask. 

He laughed a little at whatever look was on her face. “I find it’s normally polite to ask the person, instead of relying on court whispers.” he half-bowed to her where he sat. “Lord Arteloth Beck, Loth to my friends.”

“Ead Duryan. I have been Ambassador uq-Ispad’s ward for many years, as my mother died when I was very young.” A half-truth, but enough for this.

“And you’re from the Esyr? And used to worship the Dawnsinger?”

“Yes to both, my lord. The Virtues are a beautiful faith.” More lies upon lies. She took a sip of her wine. It was as good as he had said it would be and she told him so.

He laughed, “Well, I’m glad I could bring something enjoyable to your night, Mistress Duryan. The so-called fellowship in there wasn’t much, was it?”

He was the first person to have acknowledged it. “They can talk well and still sharpen knives behind their backs.”

“You do not waste words, do you?”

Ead startled a little. The wine had loosened her tongue. 

“No, no, I like it! I cannot bear those sycophants who only want Sab’s ear through mine. Or my own favour, although I’m only still the heir to Goldenbirch. You remind me a little of my sister, Magret. Tell me, what other opinions on the court do you have?” He took the wine back, swigging it from the bottle instead of using a glass.

“That they should post a bird without a weakness for comfits at the entrance to the Coffer Chamber.” Ead stated blankly. She wasn’t sure if it was her delivery or the amount missing from the bottle that made Arteloth roar until he nearly toppled where he sat, but she was glad of it. She had missed the sound of true laughter.

He took the bottle and tapped it to her leg in a toast. “To fellowship, Mistress Duryan.”

She raised her glass in return, “To fellowship, Lord Arteloth.”


	3. Sabran

Even knowing that Loth was back at court could not lighten Sabran’s mood. It felt like with the coming of winter she had fallen more and more into the constant despair of grevioushead, and no matter what Ros, Kate or even dear Arbella did, it would not lift.

Her father seemed to understand in his quiet way and she spent more and more time with him, often barely talking for hours on end. He just let her be, and she wondered if he had ever done the same for her mother.

She had awoken the morning after the Feast of Fellowship shaking from one of her recurring nightmares. The candle had gone out sometime in the night, a more common occurrence as the nights got longer and longer. She had many months of this left yet. The only blessing was that she hadn’t woken screaming, and she slipped out of bed to watch the sunrise, pressing her hand to the cold of the window. Some mornings like this, she liked to go into the Privy Chamber and dance, silently, the memories of candle dances and pavanes from the happy years when her mother had been alive providing the music in her head. She probably looked quite mad, but no one would ever have to see so what did it matter?

By the time the sun rose, she was almost looking forward to seeing Loth and hearing what little gossip he had to bring from sleepy Goldenbirch. He had needed to leave court for longer and more frequently now that he was an adult and stepping into his role as heir. She could not keep him here as her playmate and brother any more, and if Ingrain Crest had her way, he would barely be able to talk to her. She respected the Duchess of Justice, and the efforts she had gone to ensure that she was a just and wise ruler during her minority, but Sabran increasingly felt like she did not treat her like the adult she now was. 

Ros wasn’t too shocked to see her awake, once she saw the candle was out, and nattered in her ear all sorts of gossip as she helped to wash and dress her. Arbella saw to her hair, carefully braiding it and placing her crown on her head.

An indeterminable amount of meetings on matters of state, and the more mundane affairs of moving the court to Briar House for the Winter filled her morning, before she managed to get Kate to fetch Loth for her so they could take a turn around the garden together.

When Loth arrived he was wrapped in furs and Sabran let out a very undignified giggle at the sight of him. “You can’t be _cold_ , Loth, you’ve spent the last months even further north than here!”

“Less cold,” he said, half into his cloak, “And more wine.”

It had dawned very bright and cold that day, and Sabran had noticed him absconding from the court only halfway through proceedings. “Was it enjoyable at the time?”

He laughed, “Yes. I got speaking the newest lady of your Upper Household, the convert. She rescued me from the Chancellor and in exchange I gave her wine and conversation. She’s very chatty once she loosens up.”

Much the same as Loth himself, Sabran thought. He had always been one to make friends easily. She’d envied it when she was a child, used to rage at him for leaving her. There was still something in her that wanted to yell at him for skiving for a Maid of Honour, and a heathen Southerner at that.

They had come to a natural stop underneath a tree. Gazing up into its bare branches, Sabran thought a minute. “Isn’t that the one Father had to fetch us out of?”

Loth looked at it the same as her, then reached out and ran his hand along the trunk where a branch had obviously snapped off. “I think so.”

“Our mothers were so angry, I can remember their faces.” She’d been quickly bundled off to the Nursery and scrubbed red raw to get any muck or bits of tree out before the Yscalin delegation had arrived that evening. She’d looked perfect as anything, if a little pink cheeked, as she smiled politely through five hours of boredom that evening.

She wondered sometimes how her mother had done it for so many years. And the thought of her mother led to thoughts of her death and how she’d heard her screams and the screams of her ladies through the corridors and…

“Sab.” Loth had his hand on her arm and was looking at her worriedly.

“I’m fine, just in my head. You know how I get, Loth.” Like that, the sadness had settled like a cloak around her again. She was known for her famous tempers, but it felt like she barely had the energy for one these days. Loth led her ‘round the gardens once more, never letting go of her hand, before leading her back inside. Someone had ordered the kitchens to bring up hot drinks to her Privy Chamber and she gladly sipped it. Loth sat on one of the other sofas, near to Kate.

“I’m not giving up the seat closest to the fire, even for you, my lord.”

Sabran laughed, truly laughed at the look on his face and Ros and Kate almost looked shocked at it. Let all those who wished say whatever they liked about her and Loth’s relationship. She knew what it was, as did anyone who truly wished to see.


End file.
